Kiss with a Fist
by tomybabyboywithlove
Summary: Castiel wants his family to stop nagging him about his love life. Meg just wants to make the rent. Neither of them wants to fall in love.


_**A/N: So this is my first time writing Megstiel, and, yeah…I'm afraid my Meg is a bit off, and this isn't beta'd so there may be some mistakes (if anyone would be cool with beta'ing the upcoming chapters, that'd be great.) I've read it through about a million times, but I'm sure some mistakes have slipped through the cracks (message me about them and I'll fix them!) Written for a tumblr prompt (link on my profile) and I hope it does it justice. Reviews are always very much appreciated, and I read and keep all of them and they mean so much to me, so if you reviewed that'd be nifty. Anyways, sorry this is so long, I promise this'll be the last you hear of me until the end of the fic. Enjoy! **_

~0~

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" Dean asks, breaking the silence that had prevailed for the last thirty minutes. To be honest, Castiel is surprised he'd lasted that long.

They're sitting in Castiel's apartment; Dean lounging on his couch, methodically catching and throwing an apple from the bowl on Cas' coffee table, and Cas reading through a business report for the third time, trying to find anything he'd missed on his previous read. Castiel had been quite content with the silence, but he knew Dean hated it, found it suffocating. Any efforts to keep quiet were for Castiel's benefit, and obviously he'd given up on them.

"I am spending it with my family, as always." Castiel did not look up from the report, eyes continuing to scan the page. He very much doubted Dean would get the message, but it didn't hurt to try.

"Have fun."

"That is highly unlikely." Cas finally looked up, scrunching his brows together in confusion. Castiel had described his family get togethers on more than one occasion, and while he knew Dean didn't have the best family background himself, he couldn't understand how anyone would find his own family in anyway 'fun.' "I do not find it fun to be harassed about my love life every five seconds."

"Sarcasm," is Dean's only reply.

Castiel hums in response, looking back down at his papers, slightly embarrassed to have missed such an obvious social cue. "My point still stands."

"Just bring someone with you." Dean suggests. He hears the apple being thrown into air, and then the smack of it falling back into Dean's hands before Dean continues. "Then they can't bug you about it."

"I doubt bringing you with me will deter them from trying to find me a girlfriend." Cas says automatically, because usually when Dean says someone, he means himself. ("Dude, someone ate all your pie." "Well at least someone in this car has a good taste in music." "I know someone who wants to go to Hawaii with you.)

This is apparently not one of those times though. "I didn't mean _me._" Dean says, sighing in the way he does when he thinks something should have been obvious._ "_You couldn't pay me enough to hang out with your family."

"Then who?" Cas asks, looking up from his papers again and raising an eyebrow at his friend. His _only friend._

"I don't know." Dean says, exasperated. He catches the apple again but does not immediately throw it back into the air, instead turning in his seat to more fully face Castiel. "Just find some chick and pay her to be your girlfriend for a couple days or something." He shrugs, as though it's the obvious solution, as though it will all be that simple.

Castiel highly doubts that it will, but it's not the _worst_ plan Dean's ever talked him into.

"Can you believe he fired me?" Meg yells for the tenth time that night, still seething, five hours and four beers having done nothing to lessen her anger. They're sitting at the counter of her favorite bar, their usual Tuesday ritual.

Sam sighs, clearly bored of hearing Meg talk about it. "Well, you _did_ punch a customer in the jaw…" He says reasonably. Meg is much too angry for reasonable.

"Oh, so I should have just let him grab my ass?" She glares at him, making it perfectly clear what his answer should be if he wants to avoid getting his ass kicked.

Sam has been Meg's friend long enough to read the warning signs, and he moves quickly to defuse the situation. "No, I'm just…sorry." Sam finishes quietly, looking down at his beer.

Meg takes in his slumped form and almost, _almost_, apologizes for being so short with him. Meg doesn't really do apologies though, so instead she gives his leg a soft kick, trusting that he'll know what it means.

Sam looks up from his beer and gives her an acknowledging nod. They buy another round of beers, and the incident is forgotten all together.

Meg waits half a beer before complaining again. "I don't know how I'm gonna make rent this month…" She groans into her beer, wondering if she can get her Crowley to give her another extension.

"Hey! My brother was telling me about his friend wanting to hire a girl to—"He doesn't get to finish his sentence though, Meg pushing out of her chair and placing a well-aimed punch to his middle. It leaves him doubled over and gasping for breath.

"If you think I'm gonna resort to prostitution you've got another thing coming!" She yells, people in the bar turning to stare at them but she really can't bring herself to care. All of her anger (for the guy who'd grabbed her ass, for he ex-boss, for her terrible fucking situation) channeled together and directed towards Sam.

Sam takes a few gasped breaths, putting his hands up in the universal sign for surrender. "Not what I meant." He says between gasps. "Guy just needs someone to pretend to be his girlfriend." He pauses, takes in a few more struggled breaths. "To get his family off his back."

Meg almost feels bad for punching Sam after she gets the full explanation (it was a really good punch though, so she can't bring herself to feel too bad.) She does think the offer over in her head though, idly wondering how much it would pay, and what all she'd have to do. It still feels too much like prostitution to her though, doesn't sit right.

"Thanks but no thanks. My time's not for sale." She says using her most annoyed voice. She slaps some bill on the bar; enough to pay her tap and a little extra for a tip, then grabs her bag to go.

"Right." She hears Sam say as she's leaving, voice still slightly breathless. "Sorry I mentioned it."

Meg decides to save her money and walk home instead of calling a cab, even though it's dark and she's not the most sober she's ever been and she doesn't live in the best neighborhood. She sort _hopes_ someone will try and mess with her, just so she can have someone to vent her anger on. Just to give her a reason to beat the shit out of someone.

She makes it home with no trouble though, and tries not to feel too disappointed about that fact.

Trudging up the stairs to her apartment, she's already hatching a plan to get on her computer and yell at people making sexist comments on feminist posts. She needs _something_ to vent her anger at and whiny, misogynistic, piss babies are as good a target as any.

She almost doesn't notice it, the white paper blending in with her off white door. But the black lettering is large and obnoxiously cheerful and _seriously_? Comic Sans? It pisses her before she even reads it, and each word she does read just serves to make her angrier and angrier.

**We are sorry to inform you but your rent is two weeks past due. Please turn in your owed sum by the end of the week, or we will be forced to evict you. Cheers!**

**-Management**

By the end of the note Meg wants to scream or kick something or march right down to Crowley's office and rip his heart from his chest. She settles for crumbling the notice up, and aiming one angry kick at her door.

Then she riffles through her bag, pulling out her phone, and punching in Sam's number. She doesn't even wait for a hello, just snarls. "Give me that guy's number."

~0~


End file.
